Stacia Kane - Demon Inside

It wouldn’t have surprised her. Most good cops had some psychic ability themselves, though they never realized it. That was one reason she didn’t read them.

Not that she often had the chance. She hadn’t been around this many policemen in this short a period of time in fifteen years.

“Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do, Detective,” she said. “And Mrs. Boehm, I’m so sorry.” Her voice shook. Mrs. Boehm would never know how sorry Megan really was. “Gerald was a very sweet, kind man. I liked him.”

“Thank you.” The woman turned to go, her tightly curled brownish hair in its stiff helmet, making her head look oddly like a mushroom from behind, then stopped. Before Megan knew what was happening, Mrs. Boehm threw herself at Megan, the file pressed between them and her free hand clutching Megan’s arm so hard Megan thought she would bruise.

“Why did he do it? Why did he do it? I knew he was unhappy, but…” The words became unintelligible, then turned into sobs.

Megan’s heart twisted. This was her fault, all her fault; because of her, Gerald had been targeted. Whatever it was that wanted to get to Megan had used him and his poor body couldn’t stand the pressure.

“I don’t think he did, ma’am,” Megan said. “For what it’s worth, I—”

“Megan.” Hunter, sitting calmly in the corner, straightened up a bit. His warning was clear: Don’t say things like that.

But she couldn’t help it. Not when this woman was so brokenhearted and Megan could offer her some sort of assurance. She knew the investigation would finally rule natural causes. That would comfort Gerald’s sister—when the result came back, which could be several weeks away. Megan wanted her to feel better now. Itched to make her feel better now, with an urgency she realized stemmed from some unnameable discomfort.

“You don’t?” Mrs. Boehm straightened up and turned her big, watery brown eyes to Megan’s, and before Megan knew what was happening her shield dropped, just a little, like a reflex she couldn’t control. The other woman’s pain washed over her, cold and wet, and slid through Megan’s skin, down her throat, into her pores.

It filled her up, filled her the same way the personal demons’ power had filled her two days before. Lights sparked behind her eyes; she had to force herself not to smile. Mrs. Boehm tasted so good, that unhappiness, so rich and thick, like nectar—

Suppressing a scream, Megan pulled herself back. Her chest ached like she’d just run a marathon, her palms felt sweaty, her skin cold.

If anyone else noticed what had happened, they didn’t indicate it. She forced herself to smile reassuringly, as if her life as she knew it wasn’t ending. “I don’t,” she said. “And he loved you. He talked about you often.”

Mrs. Boehm started crying again; Megan could barely understand her thanks as she and the detective left the office. Megan stood for a minute, breathing in through her nose, out through her mouth, until her heart slowed its frantic beating.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Megan.” Hunter stood up and came closer to her but not too close, as if he wasn’t sure what he should be doing. His hand fell heavy on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

She paused. “Could you wait here for me, please? And get me some boxes from the storeroom next door?”

“Of course.”

Megan took a deep breath, blinked back her tears, and walked down the hall to tell her partners she was quitting.

From the outside, Vergadering headquarters looked like any other office building, with its 1970s brick facade and large reflective windows. The plastic-letter directory board in the foyer listed several different businesses, but Megan suspected they were only dummies.

She reached for the handset of the pay phone mounted on the wall, waited for the dial tone, and hit 8843, just as Tera had told her to when she’d called earlier, depressed and lonely.

“Tera Green.”

“Hi, it’s me, I’m downstairs.”

“Okay, I’ll be right there.”

Megan waited, glancing out the glass door to see Malleus still sulking on the sidewalk outside. He’d refused to even enter the building, despite the cold. And if she were honest, she hadn’t really wanted him to. He’d been very kind, more than kind, all morning as he and Hunter helped clear out her office. He’d even given her the world’s most awkward hug—the first time aside from actually saving her life that he’d touched her to do more than magically set her lipstick.

Too bad he’d made himself uncomfortable for nothing. The ache in her chest couldn’t be healed with a hug. Somehow, without Megan realizing it, she’d become such a danger to her clients that she could no longer involve herself with them.

Because her involvement could get them killed. Because that piece of demon inside her chest, the piece she’d been trying to deny, wanted to feed off their pain. Just like it wanted to feed on rare steak or Greyson’s blood or the hot red energy from couples making out in dark corners—

She shook her head, shook her shoulder, pushing it away. She was still in control, wasn’t she? That’s why she’d quit her job. If the demon was in charge she would have stayed, right? Would have treated her clients like a fucking smorgasbord and licked her fingers afterward.

No. She was in control. She, Megan Alison Chase. Human being.

“Hey.” The door behind her opened. Tera’s blue eyes scanned Megan up and down. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

“No, seriously. You really do.”

Megan nodded. “Yes, thank you, Tera. Am I coming in, or—”

Tera hesitated. “I—”

“Oh, oh, right, of course. I can’t, can I? Because of the demon thing.”

Tera smiled as if the sarcasm had passed right over her head. Which it probably had. “Thanks for understanding.”

They were halfway to the parking lot and Megan’s little Focus when Tera stopped. “Shit! I forgot to—I forgot to sign something, and it needs to be done by three. It’ll only take me a second, do you mind?”

Megan shrugged. “Go ahead.”

Malleus scowled as they watched Tera retreat. “Just like a witch,” he said. “Ain’t got ’er mind on ’er work.”

“Now, Malleus, Tera is—”

“I know what she is, m’lady, and you oughta too. Mr. Dante says it’s none of our mind ’oo you’re friends with, but me an’ Lif an’ Spud, we don’t fink—m’lady?”

Megan barely heard him. The Vergadering building loomed over an alley on its right, and at the end of the alley rested a black sedan, gleaming in the lone ray of hard winter sunlight sneaking between Vergadering and the lower roof of the strip mall next door.

Surely she was seeing things. It couldn’t be the same car. Logically it couldn’t be, whether it had been witches chasing them or not. But it drew her just the same, and she started toward it before she had time to think.

“M’lady, where you going?”

She didn’t look back. Tera would be out in a couple of minutes and she wanted to get a look at that car.

The tires weren’t even dusty yet. The windshield still had a sticker on it. New black paint shone. It was the same sedan, had to be.

Greyson would be royally pissed when he found out they’d gotten their car back before he had his Jag.

She reached out to touch it, to see if she could get some kind of reading from it. She’d never been able to do it before…But she knew someone who could.

He’d probably get nothing, just as she did now. The smooth, slick surface of the hood yielded no secrets. Witches, like demons, were generally unreadable, although not quite as much so. But there was something else Brian Stone could help her with. She dug in her purse for a pen.